Rekindling The Flame
by Straken
Summary: In a school in the States, a coach tries to compel a talented yet unmotivated team to begin playing football. Then, in the midst of training, he spots a boy with incredible running abilities, and tries to recruit him.


Coach Smith sighed

Coach Smith sighed. It was yet another day in his career of American Football coaching. Michael Smith was the head coach of the California Rielty High School football club, one of the greatest high schools in the district – academic wise. It was a completely different matter in sports though. The school excelled in studying, but failed when it came to sports. With the school's American Football team in pieces, and lacking morale, the whole school's team spirit was shattered. However, Michael knew this. The players were actually talented. Talented, but unmotivated. Year after year, Michael waited for a motivated team to come along, yet year after year, he finished the season disappointed.

Michael pushed opened the door of the boys' locker room. Inside the football team members were already gathered. Some were lazing around, others were studying vigorously to make into some good college. A typical scene at Rielty High.

"Hey Coach!" one of them greeted as he spotted Michael.

"Hey Steve."

A couple of greetings followed as the players glanced up from whatever they were doing and saw Michael. Setting down his clipboard, Michael said, "What are you still standing here for people. Put on your gears and get out onto the field. Training is starting."

The players looked at him as though he was crazy. It was the same everyday. They would laze around till he got here, waited for him to shout and curse at them before slowly putting their uniforms and getting out onto the pitch. It was a daily routine, and Michael was getting sick and tired of it. "Get changed now," he said, adopting his meanest tone.

One of the boys, Samuel, merely looked at him and said, "What's your problem, Coach? It's not like we're going to do any better this season than last season."

"The point is to train and do better. What else do you join the team for?" Michael snapped, losing his temper.

Samuel stared at me. "To get sports credit of course. To get recognition that we are all rounded students who excel in both sports and academics."

"Excel, my ass. Now go get changed," Michael replied, exasperated.

He watched as the boys took their time packing up, and cursed. Its going to take at least thirty more minutes before they are done in the locker room. Sitting down, Michael took out his clipboard and made the plan for the day. They would be doing usual drills, the pocket presence, line blocking, run directing, the forty yard dash and more. Then they will be focusing on the defensive plays, mostly on covering and man-marking. The more complicated plays will be left for later, after they manage to succeed in these simple ones first. Michael tapped his pen thoughtfully against his chin for a moment before dropping the clipboard onto the table.

"They're not going to follow my plans anyway," he said.

When the players finally got changed, Michael led them out onto the field, and issued them their first drills – running.

"What the heck?! Running!" Christopher exclaimed. "That's not going to help us in a match."

"It will. Trains your stamina, trains your speed. No better conditioning than running," Michael replied.

"But-" Chris said, attempting a retort.

Michael snapped. "Start running. All of you, or I'll cancel your semester credits for sports." At the phrase "cancel your semester credits", the players' expressions paled visibly. Talking about grades was the only thing that can keep the players moving. He watched as the team began their slow jog around the field, with Steve leading the way.

"Faster!" Michael shouted. The boys' wheezed and cursed, but their pace never increased.

After about thirty minutes of running, Michael gave up and called the boys back in. "You call that running?!" he shouted at the first and most unlucky member. "I could walk that speed!"

"That's our max speed, Coach," Cliff said.

"Don't give me that Cliff," he said. "None of you are motivated at all!"

"That's because we never win!" Samuel piped. "We lose all the time, and no one cares about American Football anymore."

Michael was stumped as to what to say. Samuel was right. Almost anyone would lose faith after losing so many times. His players had, the teachers-in-charge had, and the other school students had. Even homecoming lacked the luster and excitement of previous years. Perhaps he was the only one still holding on to hope. Perhaps he was the only one who still believed that Rielty High could conquer the State Championship. Perhaps he was the only one who still cared.

"We will win," Michael said finally. "All of you have talents. The only thing you lack is motivation."

"That's what all the others say, but we still don't win."

"Don't let the old records diminish your motivation for American Football," Michael said. "Play it for yourself." For a moment, it seemed that Michael's motivational words worked. Seizing the opportunity, he pressed on. "We'll skip the rest of conditioning today and go straight into play drills." It worked. The team let out a rare, enthusiastic cheer and rushed down to the field. On the field, Michael set out a few basic plays for them to rotate around with, one team in offense and the other in defense. In order to boost their morale, Michael chose some simple, yet seemingly complicated plays for them to work with. The players picked it up quickly and soon, they were immersed in a game of their own.

"Wow," Michael said, taking a step back and looking on in awe. "I managed to convince them." He smiled and leaned against the storage shed, watching the players rushing for the ball. Their plays and coordination were not up to standard, but their individual skills and motivation were they for the first time. Coordination would come with experience.

"Perhaps we'll stand a chance this year, after all," Michael mumbled.

He did not know when it happened, but Michael fell asleep. When he woke up, the sun was setting – it was around five o'clock. He looked at the field, and the boys were still playing, albeit a change of sides. Michael grinned. He had done it. He had succeeded in inspiring the players to play for a day. Now there is a chance that they will continue training tomorrow.

Then his smile faded. Who was that walking towards the scrimmage line? He pushed himself off the wall of the shed and rubbed his eyes. Taking a closer look, Michael saw a boy. He was dressed in casual T-shirt and jeans, with short, spiky brown hair. The boy was carrying a slingbag, but the only thing that caught Michael's attention was the book. The boy was reading a book, and unaware of the fact that he was heading right into a scrimmage zone. A typical Rielty High student, reading and studying with every minute of his life. Michael got up to try to stop the boy, but sat back down again. There was no way he could reach him in time.

As though in slow motion, Michael watched the players' begin their play. The linesmen clashed against each other and the quarterback pulled back, finding a pass target. He watched as the opposition charged ahead, running around their blockers. Michael cursed. They were running a blitz. The boy was going to get crushed.

Then, the unbelievable happened. Michael watched as the boy dodged the first player easily, did a quick step to avoid the second player's path, and spun around the third player as he passed by. It was all done simply, with the least necessary movements, and all while reading a book. Michael's heart started racing. It was the feeling of hope, from spotting an ace, a person who would pull their team to victory.

"It's possible," Michael said breathlessly. "We might be able to win this season."

He dashed towards the boy, all the time shouting, "Hey ! Hey you!"

The boy looked up from his book and stopped. Michael caught up to him, and asked directly, "Hey you! What is your name?"

"What do you want from me?" the boy asked warily.

"Boy, those dodges just now! They are magnificent!" Michael exclaimed. "I was hoping that you could join the American Football team."

"Not interested."

"Hey Boy-," Michael began, and then paused. "Tell me your name. I can't keep calling you Boy when addressing you."

The boy paused for a moment, considering. "I'm Sena. Kobayakawa Sena."

"Sena, I really hope that you can join the American Football Club!" Michael said.

Sena turned away from him. "I'm not interested." Then, half aloud, he continued, "Besides, I've put my eyeshield away."

"American Football is fun!" Michael forced in, hoping that it would grasp Sena's attention.

"I know," Sena said, turning his head back and smiling at him. Then he murmured, "But I am not Eyeshield 21 any longer."


End file.
